Mishaps with Magic
by DeepWriter
Summary: Arthur screwed up his magic potion and now Canada and America are kids again! With the Masque Gala around the corner and every other country in the world eager to get their hands on the twins how the hell will England and France keep them safe?
1. prologue

**Prologue**

England was completely focused on his task. He had to add a pinch of crushed up basilisk fang in two minutes then he had to add some pixie dust… a millimeter of snake poison and it would be ready. Now, Arthur wasn't planning on using this as a poison or anything… in fact it wasn't even dangerous. It helped headaches and lately the bloody American had been causing more and more problems for everyone since he wouldn't shut up. Matthew –bless the boy- could control his elder twin to an extent but not enough to help astronomically. He was able to keep his rambunctious brother in his seat at least; whilst the Canadian tried his best to keep him quiet the annoying boy just wouldn't shut up. So many nations had come to Arthur hoping for a miracle headache reliever. Which this batch was meant to be… now he had to remember to add the white tiger fur (not a lot… the others would kill him, only three hairs) in five minutes…

"SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!"

Arthur cursed and fumbled the stirring rod for a second before he grabbed his blackberry from his back pocket in his dress pants. Alfred had programmed a different song for each nation, that particular tune happened to be Alfred's. For the moment at least, Arthur wouldn't be surprised if it changed next week.

"What?" He snapped as his hit the talk button.

"Heya Iggy. What's up, dude?" Alfred asked him.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you want something Alfred?"

"Uhhhhhhhh…. I lost it hold on…." Was the intelligent reply.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he listened to the younger man scuffle around on the other end. "Well hurry up, I'm in the middle of something." Arthur eyed the bubbling pot of the odd purple mixture that was smoking.

"Yeah, yeah… keep your panties on Pops." Alfred muttered. "AHA! Found the little shit! Iggy, do'y know how to tie a bow-tie?"

Arthur growled. "Yes. Why?"

"Need to wear one for that Gala thingy coming up. But I don't know how to tie one so…" Alfred trailed off.

Arthur blinked in surprise. "You're dressing up?"

"It's a costume party, England, don't think I would willingly endure this torture for any other reason." Alfred drawled, purposely using his southern voice.

"It's a Masque, not a Costume party you git." Arthur snapped.

"Whatever pops, look can you tell me how to tie one?" Alfred asked flippantly.

"Well for that I'd have to hear a please." Arthur drawled back.

"… you know what Iggy, fuck it. I'll see you later." Alfred sounded more than a little pissed off but before England could respond the American clicked his phone off.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please, bloody Americans always getting in a tizzy over nothing." Arthur scoffed.

A blaringly loud dinging noise rang overhead and Arthur yelped. Clapping his hands to his ears he growled and set about to turn the bloody fire alarm off. Why he put one in his lab he couldn't remember. Arthur grumbled as he took a broom from the corner and hit the button on the alarm. It stopped immediately. Arthur grumbled under his breath and suddenly he froze. His head snapped almost unwillingly to his potion. Yelping he grabbed the tiger fur bottle and put some into it. Grumbling under his breath about stupid Americans and stupid Canadians not being able to control the freaking Americans. The potion bubbled and turned a sickly green before a POOF! And the concoction was gone. Arthur blinked and froze, sighing he slowly raised the bottle to his face.

The bottle said Essence of Leprechaun Luck.

Arthur glanced back at the empty cauldron and he grabbed his phone once again, calling France's number quickly he dropped the bottle and stumbled back upstairs to his study. England's face was pale and his vivid green eyes jumped from his face and for once in his life he hoped that Francis would pick up the phone.

* * *

France was reclined in his backyard, sipping some very good wine and a book on Voltaire in his hand. The breeze ruffled his hair deliciously and he just smirked at the image of the setting sun. Francis sighed happily as he sipped his wine once more and returned to his book. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he giggled at a very naughty thought running mindlessly through his head. Easily, he flipped the phone open without glancing at whom it was.

"Bonjour." France greeted loftily.

"Francis, fuck, you need to go see Canada now!" Arthur's breathless voice came through the line.

France frowned and pulled his eyes away from his book. "Anglettere, j'adore mon Mathieu. But why you are insisting I go see him is what I'm truly interested in."

"Frog, do you remember what happened to the Vargas twins back in 1655?" Arthur gasped out.

"Mhmm… I believe Spain had interfered with one of your potions and it turned them younger, oui?" France responded, not too interested.

"Yeah, well it bloody happened again!" France froze and gently set down his wine.

"What do you mean it 'happened again'? You cannot truly tell me that Spain interefered with your potion and—!" France snapped out.

Arthur interrupted. "No! Bleeding America distracted me and I grabbed the wrong bottle by mistake! I was thinking of Matthew and Alfred while I added it!"

Francis paled. "I shall go see Mathieu. If he is as you suspect--."

"Which he will be." Arthur interrupted again.

France ignored him. "—Then I shall bring him to your house, oui?"

Arthur growled. "Don't you remember what's happening in a week, you bloody imbecile?"

"The Gala." France answered slowly, his eyes widened. "Mon dieu!"

"North America is currently in great bleeding danger if we don't get to them NOW!" Arthur's voice screeched.

"I shall gather Canada, you shall gather America. We shall meet in your Townhouse in London. Hurry Arthur." Francis clicked his phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.

He rushed through his home in Paris quickly gathering all of his clothes and things he needed for the trip to Canada. In the back of his mind he had a very precise feeling that England was doing the exact same thing for America.

* * *

OHHHHHHHHH! Yeah I went there. :D What age do you think they should be? I do suppose my muse has come back, unfortunately I will not update unless I get at least five reviews. Ladies and Gents I do believe we can reach that amount, don't you? :D

_**REVIEW!!!!**_


	2. Chapter 1

**Three Year Olds???**

England glanced out his window in the airplane. He had easily wrangled seat in first class on a plane from London to New York. Arthur supposed that Alfred would be in his New York apartment since he had told Arthur that he would be there until the Masque –which was being held in Russia- England hoped that Alfred hadn't changed his mind and would still be there. His leg bounced as he anxiously waited for the plane to arrive at its destination. God knows how many cups of Earl Grey he had consumed on the plane. Irrelevant, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had Alfred securely in his arms and back in London with the frog and Matthew.

When the plane did land it wasn't a moment too soon either because Arthur was starting to really freak out. Quickly he located a taxi and got the man to drive him to Alfred's address. Which was located in Central Park West on the island of Manhattan. Arthur fast-walked (because a gentleman does NOT jog) up to the buildings doorman. The man smiled at him charmingly and swung the door open when Arthur told him he was here to see Alfred F. Jones. He quickly made it through the foyer and into the elevator. As he stepped inside and the doors closed he felt a moment of relief. He was in the building and he was almost certain that Alfred was in the penthouse room. But sooner rather than later the feeling had returned and had intensified ten-fold. Arthur was itching to pace in the small elevator but his pride and dignity would not allow him to fidget or pace. So, instead, he contented himself with fiddling with the handle on his luggage bag. If all went well he'd only have to stay here for a day or two –hopefully only one- in fact the Brit hoped to be on a plane home before the day was out.

The elevator dinged making Arthur nearly jump out of his skin, but he quickly regained his dignity and strode out the Elevator doors. The Penthouse suite was definitely huge and spacious. Much more than Alfred needed –but then Alfred always did need a lot of room to move. Arthur didn't stop to look around; instead he dumped his luggage bag onto the floor and searched for Alfred.

"Alfred?!" Arthur called out.

"England?" Came a quiet voice.

Arthur spun around breathlessly and he crouched down –hidden behind the doorway were a pair of big sky blue eyes. "Alfred, are you alright?" Arthur asked.

"Awfur… whewe awe we?" Came his whisper. "We… we wewe supposed to be on a boat going fwom the New Wowld to London. You said so… so… why awe we hewe? It's too big and you wewen't hewe and… and…" Alfred sniffled and tears welled in his eyes.

Arthur gasped. Alfred didn't remember a blooming thing; the last he remembered was the first time England had brought him to London that made the boy roughly around three or four physically wise. Arthur gently held out his arms to the small boy and the child ran to him, outright sobbing as he clenched his fingers around England's neck. Arthur noticed that the young boy didn't have any clothes on. Which fit, England thought wryly, his clothes wouldn't shrink with him.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" Arthur asked the boy softly, cradling the boys chin in his hands and brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

Alfred gave him a beaming smile, his tears erased. "I'm awesome now that youw hewe!" He giggled.

England grinned at him and picked the boy up, balancing on his hip. "We'll have to find you some clothes then, aye?"

"Mhmm!" Alfred nodded sleepily, wrapping his arms around England's neck once more and falling asleep, his head on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur smiled softly. Now he could remember how he had cared for the boy in the first place. He was much sweeter then. Arthur quickly grabbed his credit card and made to slip out the door. Hopefully he'd be able to grab some clothes for the boy before Alfred woke up and got scared once more. Idly he wondered how France was doing.

----------------------IN THE GREAT WHITE NORTH------------------------

Francis hummed quietly as he slid his key into the lock at Matthew's home in Ottawa. He knew Matthew would be here even if Arthur were being serious, rolling his eyes he opened the door smoothly. Looking around he called out.

"Mathieu? Cher?" Francis called.

"Papa?" Came the whispery voice.

Looking up, Francis gasped, there was Mathieu and sure enough he looked to be around three or four. He wasn't wearing anything and his big blue-purple eyes were filled with tears and tear streaks stained his cheeks. He was peeking between the bars of the hallway railing.

"Cher!" Francis gasped out. Taking the stairs two at a time Francis scooped the small boy up into his arms.

"Papa!" Mathieu gasped and clenched France's hair in his tiny grip.

"Oh cher! You need clothes, baby." Francis murmured.

"Papa, je ne vous comprends pas! Qu'est-ce... Que dites-vous?" Mathieu asked hesitantly.

"Canada, ce que l'on parle? Tu sais bébé anglais! Mon fils... Avez-vous oublié?" Francis asked him quickly.

"Oublié quoi? Et en anglais...? Tu veux dire que l'homme vous êtes toujours à hurler? L'idiot?" Mathieu asked, genuinely confused.

A huge grin split across Francis' face. "Mon chérie, tu te souviens comment aider Papa faire des vêtements?"

Mathieu giggled. "Oui Papa!"

"Excellent, mon fils, parce que vous avez besoin de vêtements et je crois que vous avez un peu de vêtements que vous n'avez pas besoin de toute façon ... pas le temps que le présent pour se débarrasser d'elle, oui?" Francis chuckled as he picked his small son up.

"OUI!" Mathieu giggled as Francis set about to make the small child clothing.

All the while the Frenchman was in turmoil. Apparently the Englishman was right for once, a tugging at his pant leg made him look down. Kumajiro sat at his feet, gazing up at him with his black button eyes. France smiled at the polar bear and gestured for him to follow. Kumajiro lumbered next to him as Francis set about cutting down and re-sewing clothing to make new, stylish clothes for the small child.

* * *

Well, I didn't expect to update this fast but I promised an update once I got five reviews and I got five reviews, so here you all go. XD I've decided that they're going to start out very young. I won't say anymore other than they will go through different ages before they become their regular one.

French Translations:

Daddy, I don't understand you! What... what are you saying?

Canada, you don't know what I'm saying? You speak English baby! My son... have you forgotten?

Forgotten what? And the English...? You mean that man that you are always yelling about? The stupid one?

Dear one, do you remember how to help Daddy make clothes?

Excellent my son! Because you need clothes and I do believe that you have other clothes that need to go... no time like the present, yes?

If I get 15 reviews I'll update very soon. :D But I won't update until I get 15, c'mon guys I posted my prologue not three hours ago! You can do this! :D

**_REVIEW!!!!!_**


	3. Chapter 2

**Getting to London**

Arthur heaved himself back into Alfred's suite. Arms laden with shopping bags, when he explained to the people at the store that he had a three year old son all of the women in the shop immediately squealed and set about to help him (since Arthur knew nothing about clothing for toddlers this day and age). Arthur let the bags drop to a floor and he heaved a sigh. The last time this had happened with the Italy twins they grew up in stages but it had taken a month. They had less than a week. Arthur leant against the doorframe for a minute and thought over their options. If everyone else found out about Alfred (and Matthew –Francis had called him a bit ago) then they would assume that America and Canada are weak and it would be an excellent time to strike. Which wouldn't bode very well, Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache; Matthew should be fine since the boy didn't have any enemies. Hell, no one could remember him until after the Olympics it was like he gained a bit of Alfred's confidence and he suddenly stood out more, but still Matthew did not have many enemies. In fact, England couldn't think of anyone off of the top of his head! America on the other hand… officially not many, as Alfred though, he had too many. Cuba, Russia and Prussia and those were only off of the top of his head!

Arthur shook his head. _Get a grip Kirkland!_ He told himself. _The frog and you will think up something. Hopefully…_ Arthur kicked that word away from him. He really didn't need this right now. Quietly, the Englishman made his way to the bedroom where he last left Alfred. He froze when he saw the bed was empty… he slowly crept towards it and touched the spot where Alfred was laying. It was still warm so the boy couldn't have gotten very fa—

"HEWE I AM!" Alfred hollered as he jumped up from under the bed.

Arthur yelped and stumbled backward –falling when Alfred jumped on him. "Alfred! Bloody hell! Don't do that!" He snapped.

Alfred immediately let go and backed away. He was looking down at his feet. "What's the mattew England? Is Fwancis giving you twouble again?" Alfred asked quietly.

"Huh?" Arthur asked, bewildered.

"Well, evewytime I do fat you always laugh wif me. But when you don't it's 'cause the git was bugging you." Alfred told him, still not looking at him.

Arthur gave a soft smile and knelt down towards the boy. "I'm sorry Al. Forgive me?" He asked the child softly as he tilted Alfred's head up.

Alfred gave a cute grin. "Of couwse Awfur!" Alfred giggled.

Arthur allowed himself a small grin. "Now, you said you wanted to go to London, right?" Arthur asked the boy conspiratorially.

America's eyes widened comically. "Uhuh! Please can we go Awfur? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

Arthur chuckled and ruffled Alfred's hair. "Sure thing lad."

Alfred let out a whoop and tackled Arthur. "Fank you! Fank you! FANK YOU!"

Arthur chuckled. "First lets get some clothes on you, then we can pack up and head for London."

Alfred grinned hugely. "Okay!"

Arthur smiled back and walked back to the bags. He sighed and shook his head ruefully. That was a lot of clothes and if Alfred was anything like he was back then, this might take a while.

-------------------------UP IN CANADA-------------------------

Mathieu giggled and skipped around in his new clothing. Francis had cut down a pair of jeans for the small boy, a dress shirt and a t-shirt that had the Canadian flag on it. The result was a four year old in blue jeans, a white dress shirt and a vest that was the design of the Canadian flag.

"You look tres mignon, Mathieu." Francis cooed.

"Meric Papa." Mathieu giggled back.

Francis was also progressively working on teaching the child English. Luckily Mathieu was a very fast learner; otherwise this would have taken way too much time. Mathieu could recognize words, but not complete sentences which was a good start for the child. Francis also learned something himself; Mathieu thought that he was in the timeframe of a year or so after Francis had found him. Which meant he didn't know anything about Alfred, he did however keep asking for a boy named Babana and another child named Hakan. Francis found this curious because Mathieu had asked for this boy repeatedly when he was this age before, but France had always been so busy that he didn't notice it. Now it was something that kept on bugging him.

"Mathieu, who is Babana?" Francis asked him, slowing his words for the child.

"Babana?" Mathieu eyes lit up. "Babana est mon frere, Papa."

"Et… Hakan?" Francis asked him, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Hakan est Babana!" Mathieu chirped.

"Hakan is Babana…?" Francis shook his head. "Alright Mathieu… we must go to London." Francis told him.

Mathieu frowned and struggled with his words. "Où is Lon…don…?" Mathieu struggled, integrating his French and English.

"Londres est en Angleterre ... où les sourcils est." Francis explained gently.

"OH!" Mathieu exclaimed. "Papa, why going Londres?" Mathieu asked in hesitant English.

"Why are we going to London?" Francis corrected.

"Oui, why are we going to London?" Mathieu copied.

"Nous avons besoin de se retrouver avec des sourcils. We must meet up with eyebrows." Francis repeated in English.

"Eyebrows is… Anglettere… Je veux dire! England?" Mathieu corrected himself.

"Oui! Excellente Mathieu!" Francis praised, scooping the child up and swinging him around.

"Papa!" The boy giggled.

"We must get a plane to London, Mathieu." Francis spoke his thoughts out loud. "Come! Come! We shall get you shoes and then off to the airport!"

Mathieu giggled and nodded. "Okay Papa. J'ai confiance en vous!"

Francis froze, nostalgia creeping into his thoughts. "You mean that, cher?" He whispered.

Mathieu frowned and nodded. "Oui Papa. Pourquoi?"

"Cher… I… nothing. Je t'aime." Francis murmured to him, cradling him.

"Je t'aime aussi, Papa." Mathieu chirped.

Francis smiled and walked around Mathieu's home, looking for things that they would need. Canada had not said he trusted Francis since before the Treaty of Paris when France gave Canada to England. France knew he had done something terrible when he let that sweet, intelligent boy go. But he never realized how much he had missed that trust until now.

--------------------IN THE GOOD OL' U.S OF A --------------------

Alfred giggled as he took in all of the sites in the airport. He was holding Arthur's hand tightly and Arthur made sure to keep on eye on Alfred. The boy didn't seem like he wanted to leave Arthur's side but Arthur couldn't be certain since the boy always had been a free spirit. The city might either overwhelm him or make him want to explore it.

"Come, Alfred. We need to board a plane, lad." Arthur told him kindly.

"Okay, Pa!" Alfred grinned up at him cutely.

A group of girls in the back squealed in delight. One of them came up towards Arthur and tapped him on the shoulder, turning Arthur blinked at her.

"Hi, we were just wondering if that's your little boy?" She giggled.

"Yes…" Arthur answered, slightly surprised at his own willingness to call the boy his own.

She grinned. "He's such a cutie. Are you British?" She asked again.

"Yes." Arthur answered slower this time the girl was very odd.

The girl squealed. "OMG! Thanks for telling me! Bye!" She ran off to talk to her friends.

Arthur shook his head, what an odd girl. Pulling Alfred behind him the two boarded a plane headed to London. The girl that had asked the question turned to her friends.

"Marina, I told you this was a good idea!" Hayley grinned.

Marina shook her head, her eyes wistful. "Now if only we could find a French guy with a cute little Canadian boy and our day would be set."

Hayley laughed. "We took a vacation from Canada for a reason, remember?"

Marina pushed her lightly. "A girl can dream, can't she?"

Hayley rolled her eyes as their other friends laughed.

----------------CHEERY OLD LONDON---------------

Arthur stepped off of the plane and carried a sleeping America to his house. Alfred was completely asleep due to the difference in hours. But still, Arthur was content to carry his 'son' to his home. When he stepped out of the cab with his pull along bag he noticed that Francis was standing on the stoop with a younger Matthew in his arms. Matthew was showing signs of nodding off, his lids closing on his vibrant purple-blue eyes and his head drooping.

"Bonjour Anglettere." Francis greeted.

"'Ello Francis." Arthur responded, suddenly feeling very weary. "Lets go inside shall we?"

"Sil vous plait." France answered him.

Arthur opened the door and the two stepped inside, carrying the two boys. Arthur gently laid Alfred on one of the couches and Francis laid Matthew right next to Alfred. The two boys immediately moved closer to each other. Alfred's back was to the couch and his younger twin was lying in his arms. Arthur gestured for France to join him in the kitchen, which Francis did promptly after covering the boys with a warm woolen blanket.

Arthur made some tea as Francis sat at the kitchen table. The two exchanged glances before looking at the sleeping children. Arthur sighed and sat next to him, putting his tea down and handing one to Francis.

"Blimey, how are we going to get through this Francis?" Arthur asked tiredly.

France sighed. "Not sure, mon cher. Not sure."

Arthur sighed once more and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned on Francis, his head on the taller mans shoulder, asleep. France smiled gently; remembering that at one point Arthur had been France's younger brother. Gently and easily the Frenchman picked up the Brit and carried him to his room. Tucking the man in, he quietly slid into the bed on the other side of him. Things would look better in the morning.

* * *

If you guessed correctly that was Marina-Nyah (an excellent writer, check her out!) and myself as the two girls named. It's kind of just a stupid thing I added. XD Hope you like, Marina!

Anyways, shit guys you all just blew me out of the water! I woke up this morning and I have close to 17 email messages about reviews, alerts and favourites! You guys are awesome! Seriously! :D Props to everyone who reviewed and the Francis Arthur thing that I added... well... that may become a big factor. It could be a brotherly type of thing or a romantic type of thing. Which ever way my people sway me! :D

Give me.... hmmmm.... 20 reviews? And I'll update very soon! :D

_**REVIEW!!!!!**_


	4. Chapter 3

**Hakan and Danagaal**

Alfred came to wakefulness because something was shifting on his arm and it was pushing right up against his bone painfully. Slowly his eyes fluttered open and with his left hand her rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawning cutely, he looked down at the weight on his arm. Curiously it was a boy that had his face, the hair was slightly longer and his skin was paler but he looked like him. Frowning, Alfred shook the boy awake.

The boy opened purple-blue eyes that were slightly fogged from sleep. Purple-blue met sky blue and the two boys froze. They heard a yell in the distance but they ignored it in favour of watching each other.

"Hakan?" The smaller of the two asked.

"Danagaal?" Alfred frowned, cocking his head to the side.

The two stared at each other before Alfred tackled the smaller boy. The two rolled off the couch and the floor connected painfully with the two four year olds' sides. But Alfred and Matthew didn't care they were together again.

"Babana!" Matthew exclaimed.

"Ngaramada." Alfred grinned at him.

"_I missed you,_ Danagaal." Alfred told him in Cree.

"_I missed you too,_ Babana, _where are we? _Biyanga _said that we were going to London… is this London_?" Matthew questioned in Mi'kmaq.

"Uhuh! You're going to like it here!" Alfred exclaimed, switching back to English unconsciously.

Matthew cocked his head to the side as the two stood up. "Qu'est-ce que tu as dit?"

The two boys frowned at each other. Neither of them knew what the other spoke of when they didn't speak in a Native Tongue. This was confusing…

--------------------UPSTAIRS--------------------

Arthur awoke with a start, someone had put him in a bed, that much was sure… but who…? England froze when he felt a hand brush across his back. Looking over his shoulder he shrieked shrilly. Francis woke with a start and fell out of the bed with a solid thump.

"What the bloody hell?!" Arthur screeched. "Why were you in my bed? How the hell did I get to bed? You git! What did you do, prat?!"

France groaned and sat up, glaring at his younger brother. "I would greatly appreciate it, Angleterre, if you shut your mouth."

Arthur growled at him. "Frog, you have twenty seconds to tell me why the bloody fuckin' hell you were in my bed or else I'm sending all of my Naval fleet after you."

France rolled his eyes. "C'était mon jeune frère toujours comme ça?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head he turned to Arthur. "You fell asleep, cher, I brought you to bed and fell asleep myself. I didn't do anything." He rolled his eyes.

Arthur glowered at him. "Well no one knows for sure with you! You bloody pervert!"

Francis gave a snort. "As if I would sleep with my younger brother." He snickered at Arthur's red face.

"Shut up Frog. I only let you in because of Matthew and Alfred--." Arthur stopped and gaped.

Francis' eyes widened and the two rushed downstairs.

--------------------KICKIN' IT WITH NORTH AMERICA--------------------

The two unaffected by the potion ran downstairs quickly and skid into the living room quickly. Matthew and Alfred stood there frowning at each other curiously, but both turned at the sounds of their fathers running down the stairs. Alfred's face burst into a dazzling grin and he ran to Arthur.

"Awfur! Look! It's Danagaal!" Alfred said excitedly as he pointed at Matthew.

Francis frowned. "Non, that is mon fils. Mathieu."

Alfred scowled at him. "Is not! Danagaal is my Ngaramada! My Babana! Stupid head." He pouted.

Arthur chuckled and picked up the small boy, balancing him on his hip. Alfred giggled and nuzzled into Arthur's chest. "Good Mownin' Pa."

"Good morning, Alfred." Arthur chuckled.

Matthew crept towards the three cautiously. Since he had been found later than Alfred he was still slightly uncomfortable around a lot of people that didn't look like his people. Especially in a new place, so one could only imagine what young Canada was feeling right now.

"Papa? Vous êtes de langue anglaise à nouveau..." Matthew murmured.

"Desole, cher." Francis cooed, scooping Mathieu up. "But please, English."

"You speak English again…" Matthew struggled.

Francis grinned. "Good job, mon fils."

Mathieu smiled shyly. "Merci Papa."

Alfred frowned. "_This is your _Biyanga?"

Mathieu nodded. "Oui. _He's my _biyanga_ is that your?"_

"_Yes. _Danagaal?_ What other language do you keep on speaking? Arthur told me mine was English… what is yours?"_ Alfred asked, speaking in Huron.

"_French… is that England that's holding you?"_ Matthew frowned.

"_Yes… is France holding you?"_ Alfred replied.

"Oui." Mathieu responded.

"Danagaal!" Alfred wailed.

"Hakan!" Matthew responded at the same time.

The two boys immediately struggled in Arthur and Francis' grip. The elder nations looked bewildered at each other and set the boys down. Immediately the two ran towards each other and gripped each other fiercely, as if afraid to let go.

"Alfred… do you know Matthew?" Arthur asked gently, kneeling down to the boy.

"Mathieu, do you know Alfred?" Francis crouched down to the other.

The boys looked at each other and Alfred responded for both of them. "Who is Matthew? This is Danagaal." Alfred frowned.

"Danagaal…? The boy you've told me about?" England frowned.

"Yep! And I'm Hakan to Danagaal!" Alfred told him proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Hakan?" Francis blinked. "Then who is Babana?"

Alfred frowned, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "Babana is Danagaal."

Francis frowned. "But Mathieu… pardonnez-moi I mean, Dangal, keeps asking for 'Babana'."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Awfurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Tell him that I'm Babana to Danagaal and he's babana to me! And also tell him its Danagaal! Not Dangal!"

Arthur snickered. "You heard him frog… does babana mean brother?" Arthur asked the boys.

Matthew nodded. "Oui. Brother, frère, babana. Même chose."

"The same thing." Francis translated.

Alfred nodded. "That's what I said!" The little boy pouted.

England chuckled. "Come, let's get something to eat."

Alfred's face lit up and Matthew giggled. "Hakan likes to eat." Matthew said in hesitant English.

Francis beamed. "Excellente Anglais, mon fils!"

"Merci Papa." Matthew blushed.

Francis chuckled and followed England and America into the kitchen, Matthew following close behind. Arthur glanced at Francis and nodded towards the stove, Francis got the idea and tied an apron around his waist. England set up the kettle and was content to pour tea for himself, America and Canada. Setting up coffee for France, it made him disgruntled to know that he remembered how to set up the coffee machine from the time that France had asked him to make it during World War II. Nasty tasting stuff it was too.

Matthew and Alfred peered into the tan concoction blinking at the faintly sweet smell of it. "What is it?" Alfred demanded.

Matthew didn't say anything, just stared into the mixture. Arthur sighed. "It's tea Alfred, it's the stuff that I always bring with my people whenever I visit you."

Alfred frowned. "Oh. That stuff."

Matthew stared at the stuff and then put his finger in it. Alfred yelped out as did Arthur but Matt just pulled his finger out and sucked the tea off of it. "It tastes good." Matthew declared.

Alfred wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You're weird Danagaal."

Mathieu giggled. "Merci Babana."

Alfred rolled his eyes and picked up the porcelain teacup. He sipped it and yelped as it burnt his tongue. He nearly sent the china cup crashing to the floor if Francis hadn't caught the base gracefully in his hand. Carefully Francis set the crepes he had made onto the table and indulged in a wide and smug grin.

"Bon appetite." He flourished.

"Merci Papa." Matthew exclaimed as he ate his crepes.

Alfred just nodded as he ate the food. Francis set the cup onto the table. "Mayhap you shouldn't give a four year old a porcelain cup, non?"

"Shut up." Arthur coloured. "I just… forgot."

France rolled his eyes. "I figured that much, Arthur. Give me some credit."

Arthur grumbled. "Well excuse me."

Francis sighed and turned to Mathieu as he tugged on his arm. "Mai je vais jouer?"

"Oui Mathieu." France nodded absent-mindedly.

Matthew grinned and pulled Alfred along with him -the two running up the stairs as fast as they could. Francis turned back to the still grumbling Englishman. Rolling his eyes Francis poked him in the side causing the smaller man to yelp and twist away. Pressure points were so much fun to use on England, France thought wryly.

"Did you have to do that?" Arthur scowled.

"Oui." Francis grinned.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"How do you suppose we turn them back to normal?" Francis inquired.

"Use the reversal… if I time it right I could possibly get them back to normal in time for the Masque." Arthur told him.

France sighed. "How long will it take to brew the potion?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "You don't understand. A cauldron full will only set them ahead a few years at a time. Depending each time. It could be three, two, five or four years. No more than six and no less than two."

France groaned. "This might take a while."

"It might." Arthur agreed, sighing tiredly.

A crash alerted the two Europeans that the twins had probably gotten into something they shouldn't have. Groaning in an annoyed fashion the two took off in the direction the crash had come from. This was going to be a very difficult week.

* * *

In case you didn't get that, a native language will be written in English but in italics. I can't find a good translator for the language in order to use it. Danagaal means Ice and Hakan means Fire which is a good contrast. Babana means brother Ngaramada means little brother and the other one means father.

YOU GUYS SLIPPED! D: Marina, my good friend, kicked my ass into posting this today so you all are very lucky. Say thanks to Marina. XD Thanks in a form of revieiwing her stories would be nice. *winkwink nudgenudge*

LETS TRY AGAIN! Try to reach _**65 REVIEWS**_ and I'll update as soon as I get 65 (or at least hit 50). You people can do this! :D

~DeepWriter


	5. Chapter 4

**Panic Attacks, Eight Year Olds, Paint Spills and Mysterious Strangers...**

Matthew and Alfred stared at the broken bottle. It had been filled with a deep blue liquid that had splattered all over their clothes and hair. Alfred cocked his head to the side and pointed at the paint.

"_What d'ya think it was?"_ He asked, curiously.

"_Probably something we weren't supposed to touch… Papa is going to be upset_." Matthew bit his bottom lip and glanced at the door.

"Biyanga _won't mind anyways, won't be! He loves me!_" Alfred pointed at his chest proudly.

Matthew pouted. "_Francis loves me too! I just don't want to make him mad… he might leave like Berwald and Tino and Denmark and Iceland and Norway did! …I don't want to be left alone again…_"

Al frowned. "_I'll be your hero, Danagaal! You won't be alone anymore_!"

Matthew smiled hesitantly at the beaming boy. "_Okay Hakan… promise?_"

"_Promise!"_ Alfred chirped happily.

The door swung open and Arthur groaned at the mess the twins had made. Francis was right behind him and slammed his forehead with the heel of his palm. Alfred had apparently jumped into the paint and started to roll in it, flicking bits of it at Matthew. Matt just frowned and had sat down; running his fingers through the mess to create something… it looked something like a snowflake. But with all the paint flying everywhere the drawing room looked something like a paint bomb went off.

"Alfred~!" Arthur sighed.

Alfred looked up and gave a huge grin. The paint was splattered all over his jeans and his t-shirt. His feet were completely covered in blue paint; the paint had gotten spread across his cheeks and in his hair.

"Hi Pa! Do you like my mastew piece?" Alfred asked, proudly displaying the wrecked room.

"Salut Papa, Arthur." Matthew murmured.

"Mathieu! What are you doing?!" Francis exclaimed.

Matthew flinched and looked down. "Desole…"

"HEY!" Alfred yelled, standing in front of Matthew, hands on his hips. "That's MY babana! And YOU awen't allowed to huwt him!" Alfred yelled with as much power as he could possess.

Francis rolled his eyes at the forceful American. "Angleterre, maybe you should start your potion, non?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Have fun bathing them." Arthur turned and left the room.

Matthew looked at Francis and averted his eyes quickly. "_Je peux me baigner, papa. Je suis désolé d'être un problème."_

_Matthew got up and ran away from the room; before he left Francis caught a glimpse of tears streaming down the boys' face. Alfred screamed and started to pound his fists against France's knee and upper thigh._

"That's my babana! You can't huwt him! He nevew did nofing to you! You'we a bully! Don't you touch my brofew!" Alfred screamed.

Francis sighed, trying to push down the feeling of guilt in his chest. He picked up the raging American and carried him by the waist (the child was upside down but France either didn't know or didn't care –it seemed to be the latter). With Alfred kickng and screaming the whole way it was rather difficult for Francis to get Alfred upstairs. But when his hand touched the door, Matthew had stepped out of the bathroom. His face was a pink from scrubbing and his clothes were soaked through.

"I didn't know how to work the… thingy…" Matthew muttered, crossing his arms and shivering.

Matt had apparently succeeded in getting the paint of him although it looked like he turned on the shower and got completely soaked. Washing the paint off but not without getting himself soaked in the process.

Alfred giggled. "You look funny."

Matthew stared at him for a minute trying to understand him. "Oh! Um… I know."

Francis sighed and glanced at Alfred. "I'll bathe you now Alfred, so you don't get into anything else… Mathieu, my clothes are in the room down there… pull on my black t-shirt and come back here, oui?"

Mathieu nodded, not looking at Francis as he rushed to do as he bid. Matthew quickly went into Francis' bag and grabbed the black t-shirt. Pulling it over his head it fell past his knees and stopped mid-way at his calf. Running back, Matt giggled at France attempting to wash Alfred. Al had apparently jumped into the bath water after it had filled and had made a wall of water hit the Frenchman. France was now soaked and was just giving the American an 'are you serious?' kind of look. Mathieu started to giggle.

France snapped his head to the door at the giggling four year old and grabbed him, pulling him towards him. Succeeding in getting the only dry person in the room slightly wet. Canada squirmed and giggled loudly. Francis smiled, whenever Mathieu was upset or sad around him it always made him uneasy. So making him laugh just made everything else feel better.

Francis dried off Alfred and wrapped him in a towel, he carried the squirming boy into England's room and Matthew followed him, a half step behind him. Following loyally. As soon as Francis set Alfred down the boy started running around the room, exploring the square room thoroughly. Francis rolled his eyes and pulled out the clothes that England had brought. Matthew chose to wear another pair of jeans, a white polo and a red shirt over top of the polo. Alfred glanced into the bag and started pulling out clothes haphazardly. The boy finally decided to wear blue jeans and a blue and red shirt with a black hoody over top.

"FROG! You done with them?" England called up the stairs.

"Oui." France half sang back.

"Good. The potion is almost done!" England called out.

France pulled the two boys into the main room on the first floor and had them stay there. Within in ten minutes a puff of green smoke circled around the two boys. Encompassing them in the green smoke that glowed eerily from within. A noiseless explosion thundered from under the boys and Francis was knocked off of his feet, his shoulders thunking solidly against the foot of the couch. Groaning, he pulled himself up and blinked at the boys.

Alfred was slightly taller with the appearance of an eight year old, his clothes were still good enough to fit him and he had the appearance of an eight year old. Matthew was around the same age but his eyes were older, sadder. Matthew looked at Francis and he took a step back.

"F-France!" He yelped.

"Oui, cher. It is moi." Francis gave a charming smile.

Matthew was starting to have a panic attack, he clenched at his chest and his breathing became erratic. Alfred yelped and grabbed his brother, hiding the boys face from France.

"PA! MATT IS HAVIN' A PANIC ATTACK AGAIN!" Alfred roared.

For a second there was no sound, and then England ran hastily up the stairs. Arthur took one look at the situation and hauled Francis from the room to the kitchen further into the house. Arthur gave Francis a look that clearly said 'stay' before he sprinted back to the other room.

---------------THE LIVING ROOM---------------

Alfred whimpered, as he couldn't calm his brother down. Matthew's eyes were glazed over and the smaller boy shook with surprising intensity. Arthur picked up Matthew and rocked him calmly.

"Hush, Matthew. It's over, it's over." Arthur murmured, his face betraying that he was uncomfortable with the situation.

Alfred bit his lip. "Pa… why is Matthew so upset?"

"He… he saw Francis and he's remembering when Francis gave him up…" Arthur murmured.

Alfred frowned. "Why are you holding him? You never held him before! Only when you took him away from the frog!" Alfred scowled and stomped his foot. "You're MY Pa! Not his! Mine!"

Arthur stared at the child wide-eyed. Had he really instilled in Alfred that he came before Matthew? Wasn't this the same boy whom early today had been desperate to stay close to his younger brother? Did Francis and Arthur really rip these brothers apart? And did Arthur instill in Alfred that he was better than others? Dear lord…

--------------------IN THE KITCHEN--------------------

Francis scowled as he paced the small kitchen, back and forth. All he knew was that Matthew had a panic attack when he saw Francis. The question 'Why?' was plaguing his thoughts a knock on the sliding glass door made him turn in surprise. His eyes widened and he stared at the person staring into the kitchen. Everything just got a whole lot more complicated…

* * *

Who could it be...? XD Marina.... don't you go telling people. :P

As always thanks to Marina who kicked my ass to write this chappie. Say thanks to Marina. XD *is shamelesssly promoting her friend*

You guys did amazing on the reviews! So lets try and hit 70 reviews! You guys can do it! _**REVIEW!!!!!!!!**_


	6. Chapter 5

**Of Visitors, Guilt and Birdies**

Francis ran a hand through his hair for the third time and continued pacing. The visitor sat at the table with his chin in his palm as he watched his friend pace. The man decided to lean back and twiddle his thumbs whilst whistling idly.

"Will you stop?" France asked him tiredly.

"Dude, just tell me what the hell has your panties in a knot." He rolled his eyes.

"Remember 1655?" Francis asked, sitting in front of his friend.

The man nodded, one eyebrow raised as he leaned back in his chair. "Uh, yeah. Northern War, Feliks and Toris were teamed up and ended up getting' their asses handed back to them on a platter by the Swedes, Russians and my awesome people."

France grinned at his friend. "You would only remember that. Do you remember what happened to the Vargas twins?"

"No. I was in the midst of a war." He snorted.

France rolled his eyes but his grin didn't disappear. "Antonio told you, remember? They became kids again?"

"… Oh yeah, yeah! I remember Tony said something about that… " The man trailed off.

France sighed. "Well, mon ami, it happened again."

"The Vargas twins got turned into kiddies again?" The man asked dryly.

"Non. The North American twins."

The man sat up straight. "You mean birdie and the fuckin' yank?"

"Yes Prussia. You're best friend and his brother."

----------WITH THE BRIT, THE YANK AND THE CANUCK----------

Arthur eventually had the Canadian child calmed down but he still felt uneasy. How were France and him going to operate with a child that couldn't be around one of them without having a panic attack and the other was jealous of the first child if said child was around Arthur too long? Bleeding hell, somebody didn't like them today! Matthew hiccupped and slowly pulled away from the Englishman. The young boy didn't look him in the eye as he rubbed his eyes and stepped back. Alfred glared and stepped forward, grabbing England around the neck and glaring at his younger brother.

England sighed. "Alfred, you need to stop…"

Alfred frowned, his bottom lip trembling as he glanced up at Arthur. "But… you're MY Pa. Not his! His Pa didn't even want him!"

Matthew flinched back as if struck and nearly tripped over Kumajiro. Spinning quickly he dropped to his knees and hugged his pet around the neck. The polar bear didn't seem to notice; in fact he seemed to be glaring at the American. Arthur groaned and unconsciously held the American tightly.

Matthew tried not to watch as Alfred glared at him and Arthur jus held Alfred. He buried his face in Kumajiro's fur and inhaled deeply. All he smelt was frozen water and pine. Why was Alfred being so mean to him after trying to protect him? He wished that France would show up just to prove him wrong… then again he couldn't look at France for fear that the old memories would just resurface.

A shout from the kitchen distracted the three from their current problem. Gilbert stormed from the kitchen with an irate Francis on his heels. The albino stopped dead when he saw Matthew. The young boy had tear tracks down his face and looked terrified.

"Birdie?" Gilbert questioned, creeping closer to the child.

Alfred's eyes widened and he threw himself in front of Prussia. "Don't go near my brother!"

"You didn't seem to care so much about your brother before." Kumajiro muttered quietly but just enough for Al to hear.

Alfred glared at him. "Shut up!"

Gilbert growled and easily pushed the kid aside, making Alfred hit the ground solidly. Matthew's eyes widened and he tried to back up, but only hit the couch behind him. Whimpering slightly the silverette frowned and crouched down towards him.

"Hey! Hey, Birdie… don't freak it's just me…" Gilbert murmured quietly.

Arthur growled. "He doesn't remember you! He doesn't remember anything, barring what happened at this age!"

While on the outside it appeared that Gilbert didn't hear him or ignored him, rather, he had heard him but didn't want to give the uptight man a reason to bug him. As such his mind was currently whirling to try and update his mind to this new fact. The idea came to him like a flash of lightening.

"Birdie, you remember me? Francis used to bring you to hang out with me and Spain." Prussia murmured, slowly inching towards the boy.

A flash of acknowledgement ran through the boys' eyes. Slowly Matthew nodded and took a step forward. Prussia flashed a grin. "You remember, I showed you to my little bruder, Germany? You two started to talk about pets?"

Matthew nodded slowly, his face relaxing and he took another step forward. "Uhhh… I showed you my horse, Moonlight?"

Another step.

"You helped me play a prank on Austria?" Prussia grinned and chuckled at the memory.

Matthew giggled and stepped completely towards him. "Gilbert…" He murmured.

Gil grinned. "That's right birdie! You alright?"

Matt shot his brother a worried look. "I suppose." He murmured politely.

Gil raised a brow. "Hey! Speak up kid! You have a voice, don't cha?"

Matthew nodded, not looking at him. "I suppose I do, Gilbert. But why would anyone want to hear me speak? It is not like they would listen."

Gilbert frowned and shot a glare at Arthur. "I would listen Matt." He grumbled awkwardly.

Matthew's head shot up. "Truly?"

"Yeah…" Prussia muttered, shifting slightly in his crouched position. "But don't go telling anyone that, kid, I need to keep up my rep."

Matthew nodded frantically, his eyes shimmering with delight. "Yes, Gilbert."

Gil grinned and ruffled the kid's hair. "C'mon kid, let's go chill in the back, yo?"

Matt cocked his head to the side before glancing worriedly at Arthur. England gave a sad smile; it took a rebellious and childish nation to calm down the child that he had raised once already.

"Go on, Matthew." England told him, fondly.

Matthew's face lit up with a smile and he raced outside to the back, his polar bear at his heels. Gilbert scowled at the American child on the ground before sighing and glancing at France.

"Don't you say a fuckin' thing." He growled, darkly.

France chuckled and held up his hands. "Not a word, mon ami. I just never knew you had such a way with children."

"It ain't kids! Matt's just… different." Prussia grumbled.

"He's eight." Arthur interjected shortly.

"No shit Sherlock." Prussia growled sarcastically. "Besides, he's just my friend not like he's anything more than that… but apparently you guys ain't even that much to him."

"HEY! Mattie's my brother!" Alfred hollered. "So shut up!"

"Some brother, brat. You're just possessive over Iggy here. Gotta go, the kid needs someone to look after him." Prussia gave a scathing look to England and France before leaving.

France and England exchanged glances… well fuck.

* * *

Shorter than usual, but I liked this one. It flowed nicely. You can kinda see that Alfred likes Matthew but likes Arthur more. France is confuzzled, Arthur is guilty and Prussia is pissed. :D For everyone who guessed it was Prussia (Marina you don't count ;) ) You get a brownie and ten awesome points.

You know the drill guys _**REVIEW!!!!!**_ I shall update if I get.... hmmmmm.... **_100 reviews_**! :D

Till next time!


	7. Chapter 6

**Convincing Prussians**

Francis glanced out the window to where Gilbert was chasing Matthew around the yard, the little boy giggling and laughing uncontrollably the whole time. After the two had gone outside, Alfred ended up throwing a huge tantrum, screaming and pounding at the floor continuously. Arthur groaned and had put the small American in one of the rooms upstairs, last France had checked the boy had fallen asleep with tear tracks on his face. England walked up behind Francis.

"Did we really fuck it all up?" England asked quietly.

"Quoi?" Francis asked, turning to the smaller man.

"You know what I mean France." England glared.

"I was under the impression that you were the one to raise Alfred." Francis replied scathingly.

England visibly deflated. "I know... I taught Alfred that he was better than everyone else... stronger... smarter... better... I shoved Matthew to the side and made him believe he was worthless... Blimey... I've really messed up this time, Francis."

Arthur dropped into one of the chairs heavily. Francis sighed and sat next to him, their shoulders brushing slightly as Francis shifted so that he could wrap an arm around Arthur's shoulders comfortingly. England leaned into France's embrace and sighed.

"I didn't realize I fucked it up that bad." Arthur murmured.

"But maybe now we have a chance to change this." France pointed out. "Have them become even better than before."

"But should we?" England questioned suddenly, pulling out of his brothers embrace. "Should we change who they are? It could do something dangerous to the world."

Francis sighed. "Yes, but as nations we're always thinking about our countries, wars, alliances... maybe we should stop thinking like this, cher, and think about the people behind Canada and America."

England chuckled. "Bloody hell, when'd you get so intelligent frog?"

France laughed. "I've always been this smart."

"Suuuure." England drawled sarcastically.

"Afur?" America's voice came from the door.

"Yes, Al?" Arthur asked kindly, coming to stoop at the child's level.

"I'm sorry... I didn' know tha' you loved Mafew too..." Alfred murmured, scuffing his toe into the ground.

England winced but came forward to hug the small nation. "It's alright Al. But you must understand that Matthew is your younger brother... you have to protect him and love him... because he'll protect and love you with all his heart if you treat him the way you want to be treated."

America look up at England with wide eyes and nodded. "Okay..."

Francis grinned. "America, let's go do something together whilst England speaks with Prussia, oui?"

"OKAY!" Alfred cheered and sprinted to the hallway, Francis following behind him.

England groaned, bloody frog always meddling. He glanced out the window again and sighed, moving towards the back door.

**- Albino Birdie -**

Prussia tried not to show his frustration with birdies family. He really did try, but he was never known for hiding or holding in his emotions. To be honest he found it a waste of time, people were given emotions to show and use them not hide them in a box! But Matt had been turned into a kid again and he was naive and innocent as it was but as a kid... can you say amplified? Matthew was currently hanging upside down from a tree branch talking to Gilbert a mile a minute. He seemed almost in a rush as if in any second, Gilbert would leave the kid or someone would take him away so Matthew had to tell him everything now.

Eventually Matthew fell silent and stared at the albino for a few minutes. "What?" Prussia snapped, immediately cringing when Matthew's expression became a poker-face, expressionless save for the sad eyes.

"Was I annoying you? ...Sorry..." Matthew murmured quietly, slowly pulling himself up so that he was bent in half against the tree branch. Shifting his weight he sat atop of the tree branch, back towards Prussia.

Prussia resisted the urge to slap himself in the head as he heaved a sigh and walked around the tree trunk to look Matthew in the face. "Birdie, you're not annoying me. I'm just not used to someone talking so fast or so much."

Matthew turned red. "I'm acting like Alfred again... I don't do that a lot... promise."

Gil chuckled and heaved himself into the tree, leaning against the tree-trunk he grinned at the kid. "It's a good change from when you're sad kid. I don't mind."

Gil glanced a look over Canada's shoulder and groaned, his forehead thunking solidly against the tree. Kumajiro started growling and Matthew looked over his shoulder, his eyes widened and he started to panic. In his haste to get out of the tree, he fell backwards. He yelped as he started to free fall. Prussia cursed at the Canadian's unlucky clumsiness and dove for him, catching him just in the nick of time. Pulling the boy against him, Prussia glared at the Englishman coming towards them.

"Prussia, please hand me Matthew." England asked a little too formally.

"Nein." Prussia growled. "You are not getting birdie from me, frankly you and Franny got your hands full with the yankee. You could never deal with Matthew as well."

England sighed. "Gilbert, you helped me get Matthew from Francis in the Seven Years War."

"If I recall correctly, eyebrows, I allied with you to get back at specs." Prussia snorted. "Francis just happened to be on Austria's side."

Gil glanced down to check on Matthew. The boys eyes were wide and watery and he seemed to be trying to get away from England by getting closer to Prussia. England glanced at Canada and sighed at the boys reluctance to go near him. Gilbert glared at him harshly, if Canada didn't want to go with England he didn't have to. Gil would make sure of it.

"Look, Prussia, I realize you don't trust me. But we need to get Matthew and Alfred back to their original ages. Regardless of how much we dislike each other it would be chaos if the other nations heard that Alfred and Matthew were children at the moment. It would turn into chaos and it would turn into a battle for who would control the child and in turn get more out of them." England explained.

Prussia glared. "But isn't that what you are doing? Attempting to control Matthew and Alfred?"

"What? NO!" England exclaimed. "We're trying to turn them back to normal by using a potion."

Gil's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "... your potions always have a habit of affecting people 'unintentionally' maybe you should put that crap on the shelf and leave it alone you dummkopf."

Arthur averted his eyes, unease in every motion. "I- I know... it just got out of hand..."

Gil sneered. "Alright, alright you'll make that fucking potion and turn birdie back to normal. But I am staying here and helping."

Arthur's mouth dropped. "Are you mad, man?"

"Yes, pissed to all hell." Gilbert snarled. "But I'm still staying."

Arthur growled and the two glared at each other for a moment before Arthur threw his arms into the air. "FINE! Have it your way then you bloody..." England went off into a rant and Gilbert knew there was a shit eating grin on his face as the irate Brit stomped off towards the house.

Gil grinned and hugged Matthew tightly. "C'mon kid, before Arthur changes his mind."

Matthew nodded and smiled slightly up at Gilbert. "Okay."

Prussia set the Canadian down and the two walked into the house, Matthew only ever half a step behind Gilbert. Walking into the room they found that it was empty, save for the door wide open showing the two Alfred and Francis playing with Alfred's toy train set that they had found in the attic. Alfred beamed up at Matthew and Gilbert.

"MATTIE! Come play with me! Come play!" Al giggled.

Matthew bit his lower lip and smiled shyly. "Okay..." He murmured as his rambunctious brother pulled him towards the train set.

Francis dusted himself off as he stood and stepped over the boys' toy. Moving towards his friend he nodded at Arthur who had come back with a cup of tea. "Mon ami, you are staying with us to help oui?"

"Ja." Gilbert nodded firmly, glancing at England's scowling face out of the corner of his eye.

"Alright... now you might not like this but I have been thinking... maybe we should bring the boys to the world conference... non?" France questioned. "there is a meeting before the gala and maybe exposing the boys to the different nations might make them more open towards all people... improving who they were by changing the environment they were raised in?"

"Are you fucking high?" Gilbert demanded. "Fuck no. England was just saying about what a bad idea that was!"

"We might have to. We can't hole up here forever." France pointed out.

"Or at least the week." England interjected.

Prussia glared at them harshly. This was going to take some conjoling.

* * *

YEEEEEEEE-HA! I just got back from camp, I was gone the month of August. Best month EVAR!

I told you I wouldn't give up on this! Now how about this, I'm looking for..._** 200 reviews!**_

Soooo please _**REVIEW!**_


	8. Chapter 7

"You're high." Prussia said flatly. "You're high and you've decided to rope me into this."

"Non!" France cried. "Not at all, mon ami! Look, if we can have les petits garcons, used to other nations then they would be a lot more accepting of other nations. Don't you think?"

"Yes, and a lot more vulnerable." Arthur muttered.

"Says the one who was just agreeing with him!" Gilbert snapped.

England glared. "Look, I was just about ready to agree with anything you prat, if it meant those boys would be normal once more!"

Francis scowled. "My idea is a good one! Can you imagine an America not fighting with Russia?"

"They'd be conquered before you can SAY conquered!" Prussia cried, gripping at his snow-white hair. "Fuck you and your half-brained ideas!"

Arthur growled low in his throat, green eyes flashing angrily. "Look, I'm going to go start on the next potion batch. You two pricks better settle this." With that the irate Brit stomped off.

Francis stared huffily at his Germanic friend. "This could work."

"Fuck off." Prussia snapped. "Look, Franny. This is what'll happen. You won't touch birdie and we won't have a problem, got it?"

"Rather possessive don't you think?" Francis snapped bitterly. "I thought you were doing this out of the good for BOTH of the North Americans?"

"Contrary to your misguided belief, arschloch, I don't give a flying crap in hell about that bloody yank. But I know he can protect Matt better than I can." Gilbert snapped, his eyes flashing blood red.

Francis didn't say anything for a long time, he just stared into the face of his long time friend and even longer rival. "...you've never admitted to caring about anyone since Hungary." Francis said at last.

Gil averted his eyes. "Liz was... was different." He kept his voice steady. "Matthew is a good friend... nothing more."

"Of course, mon ami." Francis consented, knowing not to push his friend farther. "Let's watch the boys, oui?"

"Sure." Gilbert muttered half-heartedly.

Gilbert tromped behind Francis as the two made their way into the living room, Matthew sat quietly as Alfred ran around the room with a toy aeroplane. The train set lay in a cluttered and broken heap on the floor. Alfred looked up as they entered the room.

"Hiya frenchie! Hey german-guy!" Alfred chirped happily, running around with the toy plane.

Prussia growled and Francis hit him in the chest. "I'm Prussian!" Gilbert snapped. Francis smacked across the back of the head and Gil settled down again.

"Bonjour Francois, Hello Gilbert." Matthew smiled timidly, his voice a near whisper as he held onto Kumajiro.

"Yo, birdie. Yo Yankee." Gilbert called uncaringly, feigning indifference as he mussed up Alfred's hair and plopped on the armchair next to Matthew.

Francis snorted as Alfred glared and stuck out his tongue at Gilbert. "Hey Frenchie? Wheres Arthur?" Alfred asked Francis, his big sky-blue eyes staring up at him innocently.

"Ah, he is in the basement, cher." France explained to the small child.

"Oh... is he gonna come play with me soon?" Alfred asked hopefully. "If I'm really, weally good?"

Matthew stood next to his brother. "If you're really, really good then Arthur will be very happy. And he just might want to play with you." Matthew told him quietly.

Alfred smiled widely at Canada. "AWESOME! That's awesome, awesome, awesome!" Alfred whooped and pulled his brother into a strange dance. "That means we can do something fun again!"

Matthew giggled but joined his brother, America began to swing him around and Canada let out peals of laughter. The two were stopped by Francis yet continued to laugh and laugh and laugh. To be honest, neither really knew why they were laughing all they knew was that they were and that it was fun. Francis rolled his eyes with an amused smile on his face and pulled the boys away.

"Alright, come along. Go back to playing." He called, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Okay-!" Alfred began before he was interrupted by the same green smoke. The same soundless explosion that encircled both of the younger boys and with a bang, things just got a lot more complicated.

Alfred had the appearance of 15, Matthew had the appearance of being 12. Alfred sneered at them and ran towards the staircase, Matthew at his heels (neither boy was dressed, their clothes had ripped as they grew). After throwing haphazard clothing onto their bodies, Alfred stormed downstairs with Matthew on his heels, speaking to him rapidly.

"You're being ridiculous Alfred, come on! Please, just let this go!" Matthew cried out, trying to get a grip on his brother.

Prussia and France both lurched to their feet as they noticed a messenger bag hanging off of America's shoulder. "No, fuck him Matt. He needs to realize that I can take care of myself. He's not my father or brother if he can't let me go. He's a fuckin' dictator!" Alfred snarled.

Prussia came forwards. "Who are you talking about, kid?"

America's eyes widened and then narrowed at the sight of France and Prussia. "I thought you two weren't going to come near Englands place? Since you two were going to help me get my independence."

There was a loud cursing noise as England ran upstairs. "Alfred?" Arthur asked, his eyes wide.

Matthew turned to Arthur helplessly. "He's trying to start a revolution, Britain."

Alfred scowled and punched Matthew in the chest. "Shut up." He growled.

Matt scowled and lurched onto his feet, gripping his much taller brother by the collar and yanking him down to his level. "Alfred, you are being ridiculous, c'mon. Just put the bag down and we can go outside and break stuff."

Alfred's eyes became wide at Canada's show of strength and with a calculating look he easily turned the tides on the younger Canadian. "Matt, come with me." His voice had changed to something else, something unexplainable.

"Wh-what?" Matthew stuttered, his face turning red. "N-no! Alfred, I can't support myself as a country. I'll die!"

Alfred's eyes were calculating as he sized up his brother, but they turned soft after hearing this. Letting go of his brother's collar only to pull him back into a hug. "Matthew, I'd help you. I'd support you." He replied soothingly.

Prussia growled and wrenched Matthew away from him. "C'mon kid, I know you want to get away from eyebrows, but there are a few things you need to know first. BOTH of you need to know."

Matthew was placed at Prussia's back with Alfred in front of him. Both looking confused. England closed his eyes. "Prussia, you can't..." His voice was uncommonly weak.

"Too late." Prussia hauled both of the boys upstairs.

"NO!" England yelped as he and France scurried after them, intent on stopping Prussia from changing history.

* * *

I know, I know. I haven't updated in forever. I'm actually, genuinely surprised that I haven't gotten thousands of pm's telling me I'm a terrible person for being so cruel with the review thing and all. I know, I know.

Look, I'm going to tell you all that I've been busy. And I have. I have to get 40 hours of Community Service done for school, plus I need to find a job, work on my personal book, do homework, deal with friends and my boyfriend... all in all I'm kind of stressed. But I did put up this story and I'm not the type of person to discontinue a story so I am going to finish this. Regardless of what happens.

Another thing is that some people are confused about the review thing. To be honest, everyone who posts stories knows that it is extremely hard to get reviews. Since a lot of people just don't bother. I use the review thing in order to get reviews and to know whether or not the people who like my story, like the way that it is going. If you notice, I think this is the only story that I've actually done this on. Correct me if I'm wrong. But anyways, I'm going to continue with the review thing, simply because it seems to work. Tell me what you think and lets try to hit 200.

**_REVIEW!_**


	9. Chapter 8

**Well... crap.**

"Did you fucking want something?" Alfred seethed, his blue eyes flashing as the Prussian tossed the two boys into the room.

Matthew watched both of them warily as he stood of to the side, hands clenching and unclenching nervously as he shifted from foot to foot. "Al..." He trailed off.

"Matt..." Alfred mocked his brother.

"Hey!" Prussia snapped. "Watch it you little shit!"

"Big talk for such a small guy!" Alfred boomed, shoving the (taller) man in the chest.

"Alfred!" Matthew yelled, gripping his brother by the back of his t-shirt and wrenching him backwards. "Leave him be! I thought..." Matthew scrambled for something to say, his purple-blue swirls lighting up with a thought. "I thought you two were going to work together? You know you need his information to beat England!"

Alfred froze in his tracks and blinked at his brother. "Huh... well..."

"Dummkopf." Gilbert scoffed.

Alfred rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms angrily. "You need to learn to speak fucking American."

"Y-you mean English, Al." Matthew told him timidly, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

"No, I mean goddamn American." Blue eyes flashed with an intense anger. "I don't want anything to do with that limey bastard."

A pounding on the door interrupted the three. Prussia growled low in his throat, his ruby eyes gaining the same intense anger that Alfred held. Matthew eyed the two warily once more as he inched his body towards the window in case he needed a quick escape. At this age the Canadian knew well enough that he wouldn't be able to protect himself against two angry (for arguments sake) nations. The pounding on the door turned insistent and Prussia spun on his heel to face the North American twins.

"Look, you have to understand that right now. Your revolution has already happened. It isn't 1774, you aren't trying to rebel. It's 2011! You two are countries that got hit by that English bastards wayward spell and you were turned into kids." Gilbert spat out.

A silence deafened the room. Alfred's eyes turned wide and he went from looking like a pissed off young adult to a teenage boy way in over his head. Matthew's jaw dropped and he shut it quickly (God only knows what Arthur would do if he saw him being so uncouth). The pounding on the door stopped but was quickly brought up again by a furious hit to the door and the door slamming off the hinges. A very pissed off Brit stood in the doorway, shaking furiously and his green eyes glowing with anger. Alfred was immediately on his guard, glaring at the British man.

"Nice fucking try, limey!" Alfred snapped.

"Shut up, boy." Arthur's voice was gravelly and rough with anger as he strode towards the Prussian.

Gilbert dodged the punch thrown. "They needed to fucking know!"

"No, they bleeding didn't!" Arthur roared, losing his temper fully for the first time in decades. "You could've very well just fucked up the entire time system!"

"Than maybe you shouldn't have been fucking around with magic!" Gilbert roared back.

Arthur took another swing at him, but this time it was Matthew that blocked it. The twelve year old boy dodged it from his head before grabbing the swinging fist and using Arthur's own momentum against him to throw him back. On instinct the Brit brought his foot up, which caught Matt in the chin. Canada yelped and fell against Gil, whom steadied his fall as the Brit fell backwards. Francis caught his younger brother before he fully hit the ground. For a moment there was complete silence before a growl emanating from America took their attention away. He was shaking in anger once more and Matthew turned wide-eyes on his older twin.

"Al?" Matthew asked tentatively.

"He hit you." Alfred hissed quietly.

Matthew winced as his brothers hand came to his chin and gently touched the forming bruise. "I told you that I'd never let him hit you like that again."

"There was a first time?" Francis looked surprised and Gilbert looked confused.

"Th-that was mostly my fault!" The boy insisted weakly. "I was being impertinent by only talking to him in French and-!"

"MATT!" Alfred snapped. "Matthew fucking Williams, I'm not a fucking idiot you fucker! He's always saying he's older than us and he's wiser, but if he's freaking wiser than why- WHY did he not know that you were hurting because France left you with him? WHY? Because he doesn't fucking know everything! You always fucking worship him ever since he told you something about Francis the time after he hit you! Canada, I'm your fucking brother! He is always trying to control us any way possible! I'm not standing for it, and neither should you!"

"Stop it!" Matthew yelled weakly at his brother. "Just stop it!"

"NO!" Alfred hollered. "NO! I'm not going to let him fucking hurt us anymore!"

With those last words Alfred ran out the door, Francis blinked and glanced at the frozen Canadian and Englishman, plus the Prussian who was holding up the Canadian and was unable to move. France scowled but turned on his shoes (new shoes, brand name shoes that he just bought and now had to RUN in) and sprinted after the American. Gilbert came back to earth slowly as Francis ran out of the room. With a careful movement he wrapped his arms around the Canucks chest and gently set him on his feet. Matthew stumbled a bit from surprise and shock at what his brother had said and stumbled right back into Gil's arms. With a slight chuckle the Prussian righted the small boy up and turned to Arthur whom was still frozen. With a sigh he heaved the man up and leant him against the wall.

"I didn't want Alfred to leave me." Matthew finally spoke in a small voice, staring at the floorboards. "I know it's really selfish. But... every time someone says they'll be there for me they disappear after a while... so I thought... I thought he'd be different."

Gilbert sighed and slung an arm around the Canadian boy. "We always do, don't we? Soft spot for our brothers is what we've got birdie."

"Was it true?" Matthew's voice broke through again. "That we're already nations and stuff?"

"Ah, yes." Gilbert nodded. "You're Canada."

"Kanata." Matthew immediately corrected.

Gilbert gave him a weird look. "No... Canada. C, eh, N, eh, D, eh."

"I'm sorry?" Matthew questioned. "But Kanata is what it-"

"Actually is, yes. But our European tongue seems to have mispronounced it." England responded, coming back to life. His eyes were dead but his body language seemed lively enough... ish.

"Well... how... do I get back to... normal...?" Matthew asked slowly, his head cocking to the side slightly.

"I'd have to make a potion that would turn you two back." England responded calmly.

Prussia growled and ran a rough hand through his hair. "That is if we didn't just lose the fucking brat... dammit."

Matthew frowned and glanced up at Gil curiously. "Why were you so... rude... to America?"

Blinking, Gil responded. "I don't like him, kid. I don't like how he's always pushin' you around birdie."

"But why would you care about how he treats me?" Matthew asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because I do, alright!" Gilbert snapped at him.

Matthew jumped backwards, his shoulders hitting the wall before he froze. Staring at the ground beneath his feet, he muttered. "I'm sorry..."

Arthur rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. "Come along, lad. You can get situated in the den and wait for that blooming frog and the younger prat."

"Yes, sir." Came the soft reply.

Frowning, Arthur glanced at the young francophone. "This isn't 1774, lad. This is now. You don't have to call me that."

"Yes... Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur groaned and stomped out of the room, Matthew's whisper soft footsteps following him. Gilbert watched them go before smacking the back of his head on the wall. Why the fuck did he care when America pushed Canada around? Matthew was just a kid, a soft kid who need to toughen the fuck up. So... why... why did Gilbert feel a ferocious storm of anger slam through his body every time he thought of someone hurting his Matthew? Gilbert paused before letting out a furious storm of curses. Well, there was the problem right there. Prussia's traitorous mind was thinking that Matthew was HIS, and really, Gilbert didn't mind that much...

* * *

I know.

It's not a lot of writing, it's way too late. I didn't keep my promise. I know.

Frankly, I'm feeling extremely depressed right now. So nothing you can say could possibly make me feel worse.

I'm dropping the review count if you want to know. I don't really care for reviews anymore.

I know I sound a bit like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, but hey, stuff happens.

Anyways, I hope you like it even if it is short, if you don't like it... that's cool too. Not like it would really surprise me if I get a million flames for this being so late and so short and so crappy. But anyways, ignore my stupidity and little rant down here.

Have a nice day and review please.

~ DeepWriter


	10. Chapter 9

It was now eerily silent in the house. Like everyone was holding their breath, England had disappeared back downstairs and Francis and Alfred still hadn't shown up. Matthew was sitting outside in the backyard, leaning against the old willow tree with Kumajiro sleeping in his lap. The boys head was tilted back, his eyes shut as he dozed lightly, a small butterfly resting on his knee before taking off at Kumajiros snort. Gilbert was sitting in the kitchen, nursing a bottle of whiskey between his hands. Okay, fuck anyone who dares to tell him its too fucking early to be drinking. It's only like... 2 in the afternoon. Besides, Gilbert is a full blooded Prussian, it's gonna take a little more than Englands piss water whiskey to get him drunk.

At least that's what he was telling himself.

Prussia grumbled under his breath and took another deep swig of whiskey, feeling the comforting burn washing down his throat as he did so. If Gilbert were to be completely honest with himself, he'd admit that he felt like a bastard. But just a bit... well okay, maybe a lot like a bastard. A lecherous old bastard and if Gilbert was actually calling himself old there was a problem. If he were in the habit of admitting things, Gilbert would admit that he hated America because the guy was way too close to Canada. If he were in the habit of admitting things, Gilbert would also tell you that he had found little Matthew something of a perfect anomaly since the first time he'd met him. Soft skin, soft hair, a kind, brilliant smile that lit up the whole damn room, a gentle word and hand for everyone and everything. Yet at the same time he was all hard, toned chest with a dangerous smirk that fired Gil up like nothing else. So the fact that his (not-so) secret crush was turned into a kid along with that same brother whom Gilbert despised due to their closeness, it made him feel like some paedophilic old bastard.

But that's only if he were in the habit of admitting things.

Gilbert swore violently but slammed the bottle down on the table when he heard muffled arguing coming from the front of the house, jumping up, Gil ran for the door and whipped it open. A dishevelled Francis was glaring pure, cold, bloody murder at the Prussian as he held up a squirming American teenager by the back of his shirt. They were both dripping wet and more than a little dirty from running, the teens face was red as he attempted to fight the bigger nation with futile efforts. He whined and twisted in Frances grasp with nothing to show for it.

"_Je déteste enfants_." Francis sniffed, tossing the boy into the house.

Gilbert snickered but knew better than to argue with his friend now. "I'll watch 'im."

Francis scowled and shook his head. "See that you do. I cannot stand 'im after so long." With that (and with as much dignity as his poor ego could muster) the Frenchman turned on his heel and stomped away.

Alfred was turning an interesting shade of purple when he finally opened his mouth to scream profanities at Gilbert. The Prussian just snorted and hauled the boy upstairs, tossing him in one of the rooms and locking the door. Okay, yeah, he also didn't like America because the kid didn't know when to shut the fuck up. But that was minor in the bigger reason. Prussia snickered at the boys useless attempts to kick the door down, leaning against the door himself and sliding down it to sit at the bottom. Technically he was 'watching' Alfred.

"Do you have to be so mean to him?" A soft voice that echoed faintly of disappointment asked.

Gilbert looked up at the small Canadian in front of him, frowning. "What does it matter? He hit you remember?"

"If I treated everyone who hit me to a stay in a locked room then I would have no one left to talk to." Matthew responded, his tone wasn't sharp but the words were cutting. "And just to remind you, the only reason why _I'm_ not in there with him is because I refused to get back at the people who hit me."

Gilbert opened his mouth a shut it, unsure of what to say. Matthews whole persona was cold and his eyes were like ice with a faint amount of pity and a liberal amount of disappointment. He noticed, idly, that America had stopped kicking at the door and what sounded of crying was heard faintly through the door.

"If you wouldn't mind," Matthew continued "could you open the door for me? I think my brother needs someone."

Prussia scowled, finding his voice. "Hell no, birdie. He's just going to beat you up again."

Matthew pinned his eyes on the Prussian. "A lot of people would say the same for you, Prussia. I doubt you are in any position to deny me my choice of company."

And that was that, Gilbert decided as he stood and moved away from the door. Matthew unlocked it and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and shutting Gilbert out. As Gilbert locked the door again, he was suddenly hit with the feeling that he wasn't locking them in, but that Matthew was making sure to lock _him_ out. It threw the Prussian for a loop but he slid back down to sit on the floor, back to the wall this time. His head thunked solidly against the wall and his forearms rested against his knees as he listened to the soft whisper of fabric and small murmurs of comfort and he couldn't help but wish that it was Matthew saying those things to Gilbert, not to Alfred.

"Pining away, _mon ami_?" Francis asked as he entered the hallway with a flourish, his clothes changed and his hair neat.

"I ain't pining for nothin'." Gilbert grunted. "I'm just makin' sure that the brat doesn't leave."

France didn't look the least bit convinced. "So it 'as nothing to do with the fact that Mattieu entered the room with Alfred, _oui_?"

"Why the fuck would I care?" Gilbert grumbled, looking away from his long time friend. "He's just an invisible little kid."

"An invisible little kid that saved your life." France pointed out. "As I recall, it was Mattieu that stood up for you and Germany at the end of The War and protected you from being murdered."

It was true, admittedly (although Gilbert was not in the habit of admitting things). At the end of That war, World War Two, Gilberts country was going to be destroyed, finished. And if Prussia was to die, than Gilbert was to die. It was a cruel thing, but they hadn't had a situation like this in years so they never bothered to change the rule. As punishment, Prussia was to be divided into pieces and handed off to different countries. Prussia was to be demolished. Gilbert was to follow. So as they stood on that battlefield so long ago, the Allies staring down the former Axis, Gilbert just gripped Ludwigs hand and told him to stay strong, they wouldn't get him to break. Not from this. Even as America spewed hurtful truths that cut them all deeper than they cared to admit, as Englands cruel and pointed barbs pierced their armour to make them bleed, as Frances cold indifference as he cradled his arm to his chest stung in ways he had never felt in his hundreds of years of wars. Russias glee had struck terror into his heart and Chinas disappointed, scornful scowl had him wincing.

It was Matthew that saved them. At the end of all things, it was that blonde Canadian that had them sucking in a sharp breath and clutching at their iron crosses on the battlefield that saved them -Gilbert- from certain death. As Alfred had advanced with a gun in his hand and a hateful look on his face, Matthew had ran from the back of the crowd of nations to stand between his enemy and his twin brother. Protecting his enemy. Ludwig had let out this little choking sound -too quiet for anyone but Gilbert to hear- and clutched at his brothers hand tighter, making his knuckles turn white. Matthew defiantly glared at his brother even as the older male yelled for Gilberts death, and all he did was cut him down with a few sentences.

"If we killed every single nation that had ever done something this horrible, none of us would be alive. I'm not saying they shouldn't be punished. I'm saying that we shouldn't be so quick to turn a blind eye to our own faults before harming someone who has already given up."

It had shocked all of them to the core, but Canada never tore his gaze away from America. It was simple, but it was pure and it glistened with hope for the future. To a future that was good, even amongst the terror. For the old, battle-worn Europeans this was like a breath of fresh air, a breath of cold, icy, Canadian air. Alfred just looked away, scowling as he dropped his gun. It was then that their saviour turned to look at them, he just gave a small smile and offered a hand.

"Bosses can be such a bitch, eh?"

Japan started to cry, as did the Italies. Ludwigs voice caught in his throat and he nodded, looking away. Gilbert himself... he just stared at his golden haired saviour, unable to think beyond the fact that this kid had just done what no one else would have and he didn't do it for anyone.

He did it because it was right.

It was about then that Gilbert fell in love with him.

"I don't know what you mean." Was all Prussia ground out, looking away from Francis.

The Frenchman gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I'll stay with them, _mon ami_. You look like you need a stiff drink."

Prussia nodded and staggered away, now where did he leave that goddamn whiskey?

* * *

So there you are, one more chapter and a little backstory to Gilberts infatuation with Matthew. Or at least, my version.

For those of you who have stuck through this far, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. It means a lot to me, especially when I know that I've been so difficult as an updater.

Happy Canada Day!

**_REVIEW_**


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